


The Final Lesson

by Judayre



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, Gen, Isolation, Magic, more to be added later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: Oshina has always been alone, looking out at a community she isn't allowed to be part of.  Now that she is old enough, she is sent off to learn magic and take her place in the community.





	

The house was at the edge of the plateau, looking out over the abyss where only sorceresses and wardens went. The view that interested Oshina was opposite that, looking onto the market square her big house bordered on. People seemed to be there at all house of the day, the cries of the venders drifting up to her window. 

And always, there were the children. Oshina watched them race through in their gangs, and had grown adept at seeing where they pilfered. The shopkeepers had all grown up that way and must have been much better at seeing it, but they were indulgent unless someone got too greedy.

Oshina had never lived that way – her upbringing and education of high importance to her mother. And she loved her lessons – the religious and magical texts that stimulated her thoughts, the cooking that prepared her for mixing potions, the dances where every graceful movement had a meaning that would lend power to her spells. She loved them, but she wondered what life would have been like growing up with the other children in the Warren and not shut up by herself for fear of outside influences.

One of the best things to watch out the window was the way weather changed the world – the rainy season and the dry season in succession. The rainy season came with waterproof shades for the market stalls and thick-soled sandals to keep people’s feet dry. The clothes they wore were light and left much bare – it was easier to dry wet skin than to walk in wet clothes all day. The dry season saw heavier clothes and brighter colors.

Oshina, in her climate controlled house, had never felt the rain. She had never been too hot or too cold, and she wore the same simple, undyed dresses all year round. She watched out the window, imagining what it would be like to splash through puddles or even wear a brightly colored silk scarf.

When her mother brought a cloak – full length and a darker purple than she had ever seen – she was too excited to think how strange it was. She wrapped herself in it, reveling in the weight of it. It was thick and heavy and it felt so good, like it was holding her together within its folds. It wasn’t until she felt the wind on her face that she realized she was being let outside.

Her mother started to lead the way down the street. Oshina didn’t even see her, attention taken by the riot of color and sound around her. All of the people she had watched from above were suddenly at her sides – the smells of the food stalls, the laughter of the children, the sound of the merchants calling their wares. They were familiar to her, but she was a stranger to them standing in their midst both overwhelmed and overjoyed.

Her mother finally tugged her forward, leading her by the hand out of the market square. It was quieter as they moved further and further from the place that had been the center of all Oshina’s imagining for as long as she could remember. She turned her attention to the walk, feeling the cracked stone of the road beneath her feet and the cold breeze that made her glad to have her cloak warm around her.

The square they finally came to was also at the edge of the plateau, the southward face open to the infinite sky. It was arresting in a way Oshina had never found it through glass, and it wasn’t until she was released that she realized she was surrounded by elders in bright colors.

She looked around carefully then, noting differences among them. A group of men wearing leather under faded red cloaks. A woman with her hair wrapped in an orange and green scarf. Another woman in a blue dress, its hem asymmetrical with black embroidery covering every inch. There were only a few, she realized, but the intensity of color made it seem like more. Then her attention turned to the youth next to her. He was no older than she was. He wore a simple shirt and leggings, and his hands fisted in a deep red cloak as his eyes darted around as though looking for someone to hit.

“These children have been raised in careful innocence,” said one of the women, apparently to the world in general. “They were given the best we have, and now they are given to the abyss so they can give back to us.”

They drew closer as the men in leather approached, but their faces were kind, softer than the faces of the elders. Oshina stepped forward to meet them, and the boy followed her. One of the men squeezed her hand under the cover of their cloaks, and then turned her to the edge of the cliff. She shied back, but the man held her hand firmly and walked with her. She tried to move confidently under the eyes of the elders, even as she approached the place where land dropped off and only sky existed, but the man at her side put her feet on the head of a path down the side of the plateau. She took a breath and started on the path away from everything she had known.

The mood seemed to lighten once the top of the plateau was out of sight and Oshina started looking around her. She still saw nothing but the abyss but the man was still at her side, steadying her before she could even start to feel scared that she would fall.

He grinned at her. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, voice like warm sunlight.

“I’ve never seen a new sorceress,” one of the others called as if that one comment had make it easier to talk.

“The last was Omam,” her friend said with a laugh. “I doubt you were out of diapers the first time she walked down the path.”

Their good humor allowed questions, and Oshina had plenty of them. “Are wardens much different from sorceresses?” Because the men walking so easily down into the abyss could be nothing else.

The man beside her laughed. “Wardens hunt and keep watch for enemies from far away,” he said. “A sorceress heals and prays and does magic.”

“They are Life to our Death,” said a man behind her, and Oshina nearly fell as she spun to see him.

Strong hands steadied her and before she quite understood what was happening she was being carried against a broad back. She could feel the rumble through her as he spoke again. “You’re the first since Omam and she’s almost as old as Gond.”

“Not that old, Sheshan,” the first man corrected. “I remember Omam’s first walk. Her and three sisters. But they’re gone now. All gone but Omam, and she hasn’t left the tower in years.”

“Can you tell me about her? Oshina asked, wrapping her arms around Sheshan’s neck so she could lean close.

The wardens talked the whole way down the cliff. They talked about Omam and other sorceresses they remembered. They talked about wardens past and present. They talked about the abyss and what could be found there. Long before they reached the bottom they were lost in the shadow of the plateau and Oshina saw her agemate leaning heavily on the others. She felt guilty about her ride and slid down to find her feet and walk on her own.

They all sank to the ground at the end of the path. There was no talk as they struggled for breath and looked up and up and up to the top of the plateau that was too many twists and too much height to see. The canteens were almost empty, but they all drank again and ate the last of the travel food the wardens had packed.

Oshina tuned to look out over the vast plain of the abyss. There was scrubby grass and windblown trees. The ground was parched and cracked. Not far away was a rocky spire. It was not nearly as tall as the plateau but it still looked imposing. The fires and houses built in front of it were far more welcoming and that was there they headed as soon as they all had breath enough to walk.

“You won’t be as footsore net time,” Mortai said, propping Oshina up on one side. “We’ll exercise you enough for it to be familiar. Gond will have something prepared to help you in the meantime. You’ll get it when we get home.”

It was still day, but the sun was mostly hidden by the plateau and the fires burned bright ahead of them. It was a warm sight and a sign of welcome that Oshina found herself hurrying toward. She was tired and sore, full of more questions that she could express, but as they reached the wardens’ base she felt she was coming home.

She peered forward eagerly and her eye caught by the way the firelight flashed off golden yellow cloth. Then she saw orange, shadows of deep blue, the glint of glass beads and metal jewelry. It was nothing like the sturdy leathers of the wardens around her, which could only mean one thing.

“Omam,” Mortai said as she approached, his voice soft with wonder. “Welcome.”

The woman nodded, the golden discs of her earrings refracting light everywhere. She didn’t return the greeting, instead holding her hands out to Oshina.

Faced with the intricacy of Omam’s clothes, Oshina felt like a child in her simple dress. Omam’s hands were warm and hard, her grip strong, and Oshina struggled to match it, to be worthy of working alongside someone so grand.

Omam met her eyes, and Oshina was held in them, breathless and still. Omam’s eyes were black like puddles of midnight and it felt like they could see into Oshina’s soul. When she was finally released she skid to the ground as though she had only just made it down the cliff face.

“I know how early you’ll want her,” Omam said, voice younger than the white beginning to twine through her hair. “Make sure you send her in early.”

They watched her go, the thick door of the tower moving silently at her touch. Everyone present took a deep breath when it closed behind her, as if her very presence was a spell. Then an old man, hair and beard more white than black, stepped forward leaning heavily on a staff carved of one of the twisted trees of the abyss. He took her agemate’s chin in hand and laughed as the boy angrily tried to stare him down.

“You are welcome here, Athvor,” he said, voice strong. There was a cheer and the group converged around the pair.

Before long, they were sitting side by side on a low bench, heads whirling with the number of introductions they were getting. All the wardens, her brothers as they professed themselves, brought her something special to taste. They each has a story or word of wisdom to share, and Oshina felt she could stay listening to them forever.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but she woke as she was lifted into Mortai’s arms. She snuggled close, too tired to be embarrassed, and he laughed and carried her into the tower. There was a padded bench near the door and her cloak curled around her warmly. It smelled different than she was used to, but it was a comforting, spicy scent and it was warm. She fell asleep and slept until sunrise.


End file.
